


what i want (baby you got it)

by sora_grey



Category: Original Work
Genre: F/M, Found Poetry, Free Verse, I Can't Believe I Wrote This, Older Woman/Younger Man, POV Female Character, Remixed, The Author Regrets Everything, What Have I Done, seriously i’m so fucking embarrassed
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-21
Updated: 2017-11-21
Packaged: 2019-02-05 01:39:25
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 592
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12784170
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sora_grey/pseuds/sora_grey
Summary: A sexually frustrated woman turns to the internet to get what she needs.





	what i want (baby you got it)

**Author's Note:**

> This is a [found poem](http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/found_poetry), created from a magazine article I read.
> 
> Basically, the words I took from it aren’t (entirely) mine and are then rearranged in a whole new way.
> 
> Alterations and additions are underlined.

* * *

I hadn't had sex in a year.

After too many  
boring  
awkward  
bad first dates,  
I was too depressed  
and wary  
to meet guys online.

I decided then  
to stop trying  
to do things  
the normal way.

Paying for sex  
had always seemed thrilling,  
an intriguing  
but theoretical illusion.  
It wasn't something  
I usually did.

But I had no idea  
how to go about  
finding a guy  
who sold what I needed  
until a friend of a friend  
found just that.

On his site  
I saw black-and-white photos  
of him on a bed,  
body long and lean,  
face obscured.

(He was also well-endowed.)

A couple of weeks after,  
I drafted an e-mail  
on Sunday morning.  
In it,  
I wrote that I was tired of  
online dating  
and had never done anything  
like this before.  
I hit send  
before I could change my mind.

He wrote back immediately  
and we set a date.  
Afterwards,  
I paid him half of his fee:  
$1,000 for an evening  
of companionship.

The night he arrived  
my hand shook  
when I buzzed him into my apartment,  
and my voice trembled  
saying hello.

He was tall  
handsome  
mid-thirties  
with an athletic body,  
the kind that belonged to  
a water polo player.

As we drank red wine  
and made small talk,  
his nimble fingers took my shirt off  
and his lips,  
softer than I expected,  
started kissing mine.

My mind began to wander then.  
What kind of woman  
is he really attracted to?  
Maybe someone younger,  
(not a 43-year-old)  
thin and blond,  
(instead of curvy and brunette)  
and with a flatter stomach  
(one that didn't have stretch marks).  
In short,  
someone who wasn't me.

The more I thought about  
my insecurities,  
the more they threatened  
to spoil the mood.

It became a game of oblivion—  
the more I could blot out these thoughts,  
the better this would work.

As he stood naked over me,  
touching himself,  
getting hard,  
he slid on a condom.  
I lay underneath him and  
with a little extra stimulation  
from his fingers,  
I came quickly.

We decided to rest  
and talk some more,  
but hearing his banter  
only reminded me  
that I was a paying client.  
I excused myself  
to get us more wine  
because getting to know him  
was killing my fantasy.

When I came back  
we kissed again,  
but this time  
it was less tender,  
more frantic.

My senses,  
hijacked by lust,  
officially benched reason.  
All I wanted was this man,  
for him to drown me into  
breathtaking  
unrelenting  
endless pleasure.

Our lovemaking was  
so passionate  
and so deep  
that it should have hurt,  
except it didn't.

Throughout it all,  
he kept up a stream  
of dirty talk,  
mostly about his size,  
which became white noise  
as I came for the second time.

After four hours  
and four orgasms,  
we sat on my bed  
sweaty and exhausted.

He put an arm around me  
and I shrugged it off.  
Somehow it felt too intimate an action  
for me to handle  
in spite of what we did.

I told him  
I had to get up early  
and he took the hint.

As I walked him to the door  
he said that  
he had a really good time tonight.  
I joked that he probably said that  
to all the girls.  
He smiled back in a way  
that was both knowing and guileless  
as he kissed me goodbye.

It wasn't the best sex  
of my life,  
but I don't feel guilty  
about our tryst.  
Not at all.

For tonight,  
it was enough.

**Author's Note:**

> I'm proud of myself for getting out of my comfort zone, but I kept thinking "what the actual fuck?" during the writing process.
> 
> I’m hella embarrassed that this was what my brain came up with.
> 
> Also crossposted on [tumblr.](http://colourmesora.tumblr.com/post/167729691179/what-i-want-baby-you-got-it)


End file.
